


and whatever walked there, walked alone

by wearealltalesintheend



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, F/M, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Horror, M/M, Nightmares, Psychological Horror, except its a high school, inspired by Haunting of Hill House and House of Leaves, mentions of hayden, sort of angst at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: Mason looks at Liam panicked. Corey shimmers in the way he does when he’s trying really hard to stay visible even as his gut is telling him to disappear. Liam, well, he does what he always does when he’s nervous.“We’re trying to summon a ghost.”He puts his foot on his mouth. And then, he keeps doing it, “hypothetically speaking, I mean. We’re not going to, of course, that would be stupid.” Why isn’t anyone shutting him up? Seriously. “We just wanna know, hypothetically, if we wanted to summon a ghost, would this work?”or, the one where someone summons a demon, things spiral out of control, and Liam kind of liked it better when his nightmares were just dreams and not actually out to get them.based on the prompt: "Be careful what you summon. They might not want to go back once you’re done." for the Official Thiam Library Halloween Event.





	and whatever walked there, walked alone

**Author's Note:**

> okay yes I know i'm late, but. I had an exam and post grad stuff to figure out, so, I'm sorry i'm one day later?
> 
> also turns out i can't write horror novels, so this is a bit of a rambling mess.
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy!

“How are you feeling?” Scott asks earnestly, with warm, understanding eyes as he sits beside him on the couch, “you haven’t been picking up my calls.”

 

“I’m fine,” Liam shrugs, absently scratching at his left wrist, “really, it’s all fine.”

 

“You know I worry,” he frowns, “Mason told me what happened at Halloween, but I have a feeling he gave me the Cliff Notes version.”

 

Liam huffs, looking away. “Yeah, well. He shouldn’t have.” A pause, “I just didn’t want you to worry. As I said, it’s all fine now.”

 

“You could’ve called us. We wouldn’t mind–”

 

“We handled it,” Liam interrupts him sharply, sharper than he intended, and then amends, “I mean. You don’t have to hold my hand through every minor crisis. It’s Beacon Hills, I gotta get used to it. You don’t think we can handle it?”

 

“No, no! Of course I know you can handle it! I trust you, I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t,” Scott smiles kindly, “I just want you to know that you can come to us for help, just because we left, it doesn’t mean you’re alone.”

 

“I know. It’s just. I think– I know you do, but I had to prove it to myself, you know?”

 

“I understand,” he says, and means it wholeheartedly, before noticing the way Liam’s claws have flicked out, piercing the pillow he had been holding. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? The unabridged version? It might help.”

 

“I’m not sure–”

 

“Liam,” Scott gently unhooks the pillow from his hands, probably in an effort to salvage some of his mother’s furniture and decorations from teenage werewolves. “It’s okay. You did good there. I just want to help, yeah?”

 

Liam hesitates, biting his lips, thankfully without fangs, and looks at the foam stuck underneath his fingernails. “Okay, fine,” his eyes flash gold for a second as he thinks back at that day, fear and guilt stumbling into his bloodstream like aftershocks from an earthquake. “I don’t even know where to start.”

 

“How about from the beginning,” Scott prompts, shifting on the cushion to give Liam more space, “how did it all start?”

 

“Well,” a startled laugh slips past his lips, surprising himself, “I guess it started with me not listening to Corey…”

 

*

 

Beacon Hills High School is deep in the holidays season. Bats and pumpkins decorate the halls in all their cardboard glory, cartoonish witches and tacky vampires hang in banners, inviting the student body for the Halloween Dance. The air smells like cotton candy and sugary drinks as preparations for the party are finished on the school gym, and Liam loves everything about it.

 

After the Anuk-Ite, after the hunters, after all the shit that rained down last month, it’s a relief to see the city buzzing with anything other than bone-deep fear. 

 

Scott thinks it’s good, too, or so he had told Liam over the phone last night. He also had asked how things were going in Beacon Hills, and Liam had said  _ fine, great, really, never been better, everything’s A-okay,  _ but he’s kind of trying to erase that part of the conversation from his memory.

 

“Everything  _ is  _ fine,” he says to the bottom of his locker, and nods pleased when his voice doesn’t waver and his heartbeat doesn’t skip. It’s not a lie, it’s not even an exaggeration.  _ Things are good,  _ he assures himself, cringing at the screeching sound of the hinges grinding as the metal door closes. It grates at his ears, leaving a high-pitched ringing behind, loud enough to drown the wind hissing outside and the shrieking of crickets hiding under the dry leaves on the ground. 

 

“Who are you talking to?”

 

_ “Jesus Christ,”  _ Liam drops the biology book he had been holding. His heart goes into overdrive, hammering on his chest. And for one brief second, his claws burst through. “ _ Shit,  _ Corey. Give me some warning.  _ Holy shit.”  _

 

Corey snorts, a little sheepish, a little amused, but pushes himself off from where he had been leaning against the lockers. He bends to pick up Liam’s battered biology book, and Liam blinks at the glass doors, surprised to see it’s already dark out. “Sorry,” Corey offers, handing him the book, “I thought you heard me coming,” he shrugs, not really apologetic, “Mason’s looking for you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

 

Liam frowns, fishing it out of his back pocket, and scowling when a black screen stares steadily back at him, even as he presses down the power button with supernatural strength. He looks up, smiling guiltily, “it’s dead. I was practicing and lost track of time, sorry. Are you guys still at the library?”

 

“Yeah,” Corey falls into step beside him, almost tripping on a half-destroyed paper pumpkin. “So, who  _ were  _ you talking to?”

 

“No one,” Liam scratches at the back of his neck, not really embarrassed, but not really comfortable either. “Scott called last night.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” he shrugs one shoulder, hoping to come off unbothered and nonchalant, but fully knowing those adjectives have never been used to describe Liam Dunbar before. “So, you know. Just reminding myself things  _ are  _ fine. It’s fine. It’s great. Nothing’s weird going on. It’ll be fine.”

 

“Oh, man,” Corey whines, dragging a hand across his face, and groans, “why did you have to say that?  _ You jinxed us! _ ”

 

“Dude,” Liam says, pushing the library doors open, and breathes in the scent of old books, ink, and  _ people.  _ It’s kind of soothing, in the way having a Halloween party after a war is soothing, in the way  _ normalcy  _ is soothing. “That’s not a thing.”

 

Mason is waving at them from a table in the middle, grinning at them with his  _ nervous but trying to play it cool  _ smile, and when Liam checks, there’s no other heartbeat in the room. Corey waves back, smiling softly at his boyfriend and his heart picks up speed. Still, he glances back at Liam, “dude, it’s Beacon Hills. You shouldn’t tempt fate like that.”

 

“Like what?” Mason asks, squinting at Liam in suspicion as soon as they sit down on his table. Books are scattered around him, several bookmarks peeking out from inside the pages, and a notebook with weird-looking geometric designs drawn on it is open. “What did you do this time?”

 

“What– no, why would you–  _ hey!”  _ Liam splutters, choking on indignation and betrayal. Honestly, is this what Julius Caesar felt? How could Mason– Liam has never done anything, ever, that got them in trouble.  _ Seriously _ , this is so not justified, what has he done to deserve such suspicion? “I resent that. I didn’t do anything.” He levels Corey with a glare, “ _ everything is fine.” _

 

“See?” the chimera says, sharing a look with Mason. A look that says  _ can you believe this guy?  _ And Mason nods sagely, a  _ yeah, so full of shit  _ kind of nod.  _ Seriously.  _ Liam is supposed to be acting-alpha of this pack, where is the respect? There’s a chain of command here, a  _ hierarchy.  _ “He keeps saying that.”

 

“Dude,” Mason says, “you gotta stop that, you’re going to jinx us.”

 

“ _ That’s what I said!” _

 

“You were looking for me? Liam speaks loudly over them, wincing as it echoes around the empty library. He half-expects someone to jump out of the shadows to chide him over  _ use your inside voice, Liam.  _

 

It’s enough to draw Mason back to the matter at hand. He bites his lips, looking down at the book open in front of him. It’s old, fraying at the edges, yellowed and wafting a smell of mold and old things and dust. “Right. About that. I have news.”

 

“Good news?” Liam asks.

 

“Bad news?” Corey asks.

 

“ _ News,”  _ Mason answers. “I’m not sure yet. I don’t even know if it’s a  _ thing _ or not.” He grimaces, closing the book with a dull  _ thud  _ and sneezing when it kicks up a cloud of dust. “Okay, so. I’ve been studying here since last period, right? There was this group of kids, freshmen, I think, on the table beside me. They were talking about Halloween and stuff, saying the school dance is pretty lame– which it is, don’t get me wrong, but still– and how they wanted to make their own party.”

 

“Sounds like freshmen, yes,” Liam rolls his eyes, thinking back at the number of conversations he overheard today on the same spiel. “But what about it? Are they supernatural? Are they planning on spiking the punch with wolfsbane– because Scott told me about that one time they drunk spiked punch, and oh boy, it wasn’t pretty.”

 

“No, I don’t know, no– wait, what?” He shakes his head, “doesn’t matter. What worries me is the game they’re planning on playing. Or, rather, the fact that it’s not a game at all.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“They want to summon some sort of demon, one of the kid’s dad is a historian and told him about this old Sumerian ritual. Here,” he opens the book again, turning it around and sliding it towards Liam and Corey. On the page is a perfect circle, odd symbols drawn all around it, curving and looping around each other, and on the center, an amorphous creature sits, only its red eyes clearly shaped. A text in a language equally strange fills the rest of the page. “This is the ritual they were talking about. See? Everything about it looks freaking ominous.”

 

“You think it could work? Like, for real?” Corey wrinkles his nose at the book, eyeing it warily and pushing away from the table. Liam doesn’t blame him, the figure on the page has no shape they can identify, but the more Liam stares at it, the lines seem more defined, a ripple of scales appearing where it used to be only spots of ink, an animal skull instead of blank white paper, an animal skull a little too large to be a dog’s, too large to be a wolf’s, but maybe,  _ maybe,  _ it could be the right size for a bear. 

 

“It might,” Mason fidgets on his seat, looking around the empty aisles, and Liam hears his heart speeding up, the distinct smell of adrenaline and fear souring the air. “I mean, stranger things happened here, right?”

 

“Maybe,” Liam agrees absently, eyes still trained on the drawing, something heavy settling on his stomach and cold washing over his bones. “I mean, we shouldn’t risk it, right?”

 

“No?” Corey says, but it sounds more like a question than an opinion, and the dubious look on his face betrays his doubt. “Scott would want us to check it out, wouldn’t he? Just in case?”

 

Liam runs a hand through his hair, fingers itching to move, to do something, anything other than sitting here debating what Scott would or wouldn’t do and coming up empty. Scott left him in charge, trusted Liam to know how to handle every stupid crisis, and Liam really needs to get his shit together and not have a meltdown over some stupid Halloween bullshit.

 

When he forces himself to pay attention to the conversation, Mason is still talking. “Maybe we could ask Deaton?” He suggests, voice lifting with a hopeful tone, “he’ll know if this is the real deal or not.”

 

Deaton most definitely would know, it’s true. He knows everything about anything supernatural, he probably knows someone who did this ritual once and got their toes sacrificed to the demon or something. That sounds like one of his vaguely creepy, vaguely helpful stories. 

 

But then again, Deaton would also most definitely snitch to Scott, and Scott would worry because Scott cares so much about everything, it’s  _ exhausting,  _ and then Scott would call Liam and Liam would say something stupid like  _ a bunch of kids are summoning the devil  _ and Scott would worry  _ even more,  _ and Liam would panic, and Scott would notice and give him his  _ I’m not disappointed, I know you tried your best,  _ but that’s even worse because Liam’s best isn’t enough,  _ clearly _ , and Scott would have to come all the way back to Beacon Hills to deal with a bunch of drunk assholes messing around with an ouija board because Liam doesn’t know how to go through things like a normal person, and  _ shit,  _ isn’t Scott supposed to be visiting Malia? Malia would definitely kill Liam if he made Scott miss his flight, she’s still not over the whole Theo thing, and  _ shit,  _ she would definitely bully Mason and Corey into helping her hide Liam’s body in the woods– 

 

“Dude, are you okay, ‘cause–”

 

“ _ Please, don’t help Malia hide my dead body in the woods behind your house,”  _ Liam blurts out.

 

“What,” Mason says.

 

“Why would Malia kill you?” Corey asks.

 

“Let’s not tell Deaton,” Liam amends.

 

*

 

They tell Deaton.

 

*

 

They end up telling Deaton, because it’s better to be safe than sorry and Liam isn’t about to risk the fate of Beacon Hills over a wounded pride, but they decide to do it over the phone, in a strict need-to-know basis.

 

_ “I’d really need to know a little more about this ritual of yours before I can answer your questions, boys,” _ Deaton says,  _ “I’m not sure how I’d be able to help otherwise.” _

 

Well, shit.

 

Mason looks at Liam panicked. Corey shimmers in the way he does when he’s trying really hard to stay visible even as his gut is telling him to disappear. Liam, well, he does what he always does when he’s nervous.  _ “We’re trying to summon a ghost.” _ He puts his foot on his mouth. And then,  _ he keeps doing it, _ “hypothetically speaking, I mean. We’re not going to, of course, that would be stupid.” Why isn’t anyone shutting him up? Seriously. “We just wanna know, hypothetically, if we wanted to summon a ghost, would this work?”

 

_ “While I’d advise against playing with the Veil,” _ Deaton sounds like he’s frowning, like he’s trying very hard to decide if he should hang up on Liam. Which, to be perfectly honest,  _ fair. “I still need to know more about this ritual in specific.” _

 

“Uh,” Liam scrambles for the book, searching for the name of the thing, but it’s pointless, anyway. He wouldn’t even be able to tell Deaton which language this is. Instead, he thrusts the phone to an equally panicking Corey, who immediately passes it to Mason like the world’s worst game of hot potato.

 

“Hello?” Mason cringes at the high-pitched way it comes out, clears his throat, “I mean, hey?”

 

_ “Hello, Mason,” _ Deaton now  _ definitely  _ sounds amused, and not at all like he plans on hanging up. Besides, it’s physically impossible to hang up on Mason. He’s too nice, you’d feel bad for forever.  _ “I trust you have something to tell me?” _

 

“What? I don’t. I mean. Maybe?”

 

_ “About the ritual.” _

 

“Oh, right. Right. The ritual.” Mason pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath, “it’s a Sumerian ritual, I think. Here, hold on.”

 

As he begins to read off passages from the book, Liam tunes out the call, focusing instead in the high school. The only heartbeats he can pick up are theirs, no sign of the freshmen or anyone else trying to sneak in, which is almost a miracle in itself. Maybe people have finally realized the school is not a good place to be after hours, god knows they fought off enough big bads in the halls in, at the very,  _ very _ least a yearly basis– minor confrontations notwithstanding.

 

There’s the sound of a cat walking on the roof, soft paws padding quietly above their heads as it makes its way across the rooftop and jumps off to a nearby tree, and there’s an owl calling every few minutes, feathers ruffling and talons scratching into branches. Somewhere inside, a window is rattling with the wind, glass panels shaking against the metal structure, rattling, rattling, rattling, and a door is slamming shut, creaking back open, hinges shrieking, and slamming closed again, creaking,  _ slam _ , creaking,  _ slam _ , creaking, slam– 

 

“Liam?”

 

He snaps his head up, violently tearing himself back to the present and shutting out his heightened senses.  _ Damn,  _ it must be close to the full moon again. Great. Mason is staring at him concernedly, the phone forgotten on his palm, and he has a look on his eyes that says he must have been calling Liam’s name for some time now.

 

_ “Mason?”  _ Deaton’s voice drifts from the phone’s loudspeakers, slightly distorted and slightly robotic, but carrying the same concern etched on his friends’ faces.  _ “Is everything okay?” _

 

Mason raises one eyebrow in question, waits until Liam nods a nod that he hopes is assertive and cool. It’s probably shaky and doubtful. Yeah, Mason’s eyes are kinda squinting now, so– definitely not reassuring– but! He’s also answering Deaton, so Liam is going to put that as a solid half-win. “Yeah, no, it’s fine, Liam’s just… spacing out, I guess. I’m sorry, you were saying?”

 

_ “I don’t think there’s anything else to tell you,”  _ he says, overly cautious, like he’s still worried about them even though there’s no need. But that’s Deaton, Liam supposes.  _ “Except to be careful. All Hallow’s Eve is already here, the Veil between worlds has never been thinner. Be careful what you summon. They might not want to go back once you’re done.”  _ A pause,  _ “hypothetically speaking, of course.” _

 

“Of course,” Mason echoes, blinking down at the book on his hands and hastily dropping it back on the table. “Uh, thanks?”

 

_ “It was no trouble, I’m always glad to help. Just remember to, please, be careful.” _

 

The call disconnects, beeping once, twice, before the screen abruptly fades to black.

 

*

 

“So Deaton knew about it?” 

 

“I mean,” Liam gestures vaguely, “I don’t think he bought that, I’m not a very good liar.”

 

“That’s true,” Scott smiles goofily, almost too light for Liam’s gloomy mood, “but that was smart, telling Deaton. He always knows what to say.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Okay, what happened next?”

 

“Well, Mason had heard them talk about the old church, you know that one, just outside town? Yeah, that one. So we went to stake out the place, stop them from even going in…”

 

*

 

“Okay, so,” Corey says, checking his watch for the umpteenth time in the last hour, “it’s officially ten o’clock. I don’t think they’re coming.”

 

Mason makes a disagreeing, strangled noise from his spot crouched behind the bench one pew away. “I heard that freshman, what’s his name– Chad? Tad? You know, the one with the weird-looking bangs? Always has a pen behind his ears like a douchebag?”

 

“Oh, right, Fred!”

 

“Yes! Fred. Thank you! Anyway, I heard him talking to his friends, they were planning to meet up here. I mean, look around,” Mason says, and it echoes on the high ceilings. The old cathedral is lit up with candles by the altar, casting a warm yellow glow on the cross and the white table and the paintings, but the rest of the nave and the pews are left in darkness, tall shadows flickering in the faint candlelight. A shiver runs down Liam’s spine, and he can’t help hating a little his decision of staking out the place. “This is the perfect spot for summoning demons. It’s a creepy, old ass church! With creepy stained glasses and creepy paintings and creepy candles!”

 

“You might have a point,” Corey muses, and Liam can just picture the adoring look on his face and the syrupy way his voice softens when talking with Mason, “but it’s late, maybe they canceled?”

 

“ _Guys,”_ Liam whispers-shouts, wincing at the echo, “shush. I’m texting Nolan, he’s in World Hist with Fred.” He texts Nolan, shaking his head a little at the fact that he is texting _Nolan,_ because they’re not friends, but they are _friendly,_ now. His phone chimes loudly in the empty church when Nolan texts back almost immediately. The boy might have once held Liam at crossbow-point, but at least he texts back fast– that’s more than you can say about _some other_ _people_ who once-upon-a-time tried to kill Liam. Well, Theo didn’t try to kill _Liam,_ exactly, but still, the point stands. He opens the text. “ _Shit.”_

 

“What?” Corey perks up, probably picking up on the spike on Liam’s heartbeat, “what did he say?”

 

“Fred posted a picture on Instagram a few minutes ago,” Liam tells them, not bothering in keeping his voice down anymore and already getting to his feet, “he changed his mind. They’re doing it at the school’s boiler room.”

 

Because sure, why not add to the creepy vibe with a shout out to The Shining. Absolutely lovely. Liam can’t wait to see how this Halloween will turn out.

 

Just lovely.

 

*

 

“It’s always the High School, isn’t it?”

 

*

 

Beacon Hills High School has stood there for nearly as long as the town itself. It’s been there when the Hales first settled in the preserve, and it’s been there when all that was left was ashes and broken people shattering further with each breath. It’s hidden vaults and it’s seen werewolves and kanimas and berserkers and foxes and coyotes and chimeras and hunters.

 

Blood has been spilled in the halls so often, Liam is surprised the smell of copper and salt isn’t permanently present in the air.

 

When they walk in, a little after eleven o’clock, the high school is deathly silent, like the whole building is holding its breath for whatever tragedy they are going to rain down inside these walls.

 

“Are we too late?” Mason asks, whispering, “did it even work?”

 

Liam stretches his werewolf senses like Scott taught him to do, shutting out Mason’s rabbit heartbeat and Corey’s shallow breathing and the rats in the sewers under the school scratching at the pipes and concrete walls, and focusing instead in searching for the unpleasantly familiar scent of fear and sweat and  _ human,  _ or in finding any stray heartbeats that might be hiding somewhere inside, creeping footsteps of people that might be trying to stay quiet, choked off weeping with swallowed down screams. All the little, soft, sounds that might tell him  _ yes, here, I am alive, I am here, come to save me,  _ loud enough for him to lock in and track down in the maze of desert hallways and empty classrooms.

 

Very faintly, almost too quiet to hear– a lone heartbeat.

 

“Do you hear that?” He asks Corey, looking down the dark hallway, trying to make out anything other than rows and rows of lockers and long shadows stretching from one side to the other. “There’s someone else here.”

 

“Yeah, I hear it too,” Corey says, and Liam can smell the faint tendrils of fear beginning to sour the air around them, but it’s impossible to know from which of them it’s coming, “but I can’t tell where it’s coming from, it’s too faint.”

 

“Uh, okay, that’s– that doesn’t have to be bad, right?” Mason suggests, but it sounds weak, a barely believable excuse anywhere else, much less in Beacon Hills; it’s like some sort of twisted Murphy’s Law– if there’s a chance for something to go wrong, it will in the worst possible way that will cause the highest possible body count. “I mean, there were at least three other people on Fred’s Instagram picture, so maybe the ritual failed and they all went home and now Douchebag Fred is sulking on the Boiler Room?”

 

“Mason,” Corey levels his boyfriend with, well, not a glare, but a severely unimpressed look, which is probably the most annoyed Corey can reach when it comes to Mason, and it lasts all of two seconds, which is probably a new record. “I love you, but nothing is ever that easy in Beacon Hills.”

 

“I know. I realized as I was speaking, sorry.”

 

Liam sighs, steeling himself for a long night, probably full of wrestling ghosts. That’s a new low, even for him, but then again, they fought off the Ghost Riders, so maybe it’s not that different? Either way, he checks his phone again. He had plugged it in the library back when they were debating calling Deaton from Mason’s phone until they had left for the church at the edge of the town, and the battery is now at a solid 4%. Still no new texts or calls. Damn it. “Hey,” he calls, quickly typing another message while he still can, “has anyone talked to Theo yet?”

 

“No,” Corey shrugs, checking his own phone with a battery still half full, “last time he actually texted me back was when he and Mason were down at the tunnels. He said, and I quote,  _ still alive, chill.” _

 

“Me neither,” Mason says, sighing his very exhausted sigh, the one reserved for whenever Liam is being particularly difficult or dense. Liam isn’t sure what he’s done to warrant it this time. “He never answers me after that time you used my phone to tell him to go fuck himself after he blocked your number.” He pauses, “maybe he blocked you again?”

 

“No,” Liam considers it for a second, but  _ nah.  _ “I talked with him yesterday. He helps me with Biology sometimes.”

 

There’s a long pause in which Liam steadily not looks at his two friends, instead, listening as they all go through the five stages of grief. He had not meant to say that. He had meant to say  _ no, he promised to keep me posted if something weird happens.  _ He had meant to say  _ no, he knows I’d just punch him again if he does.  _ He had meant to say literally anything else that wouldn’t lead to Corey definitely picking up on the way his heart is beating like he just ran a marathon and relaying the fact in real time to Mason with looks and probably secret code signs.

 

“We should go look for the demon,” Liam says, “we should definitely go look for the demon and not talk for the next five hours.”

 

“Dude,” Mason begins, stops. Restarts, “I’m not saying Theo is like, the epitome of bad ideas, but he’s definitely the worst idea you ever had.”

 

“Worse than drinking the everything-on-the-fridge slushie on a dare with Stiles,” Corey nods, serious, “worse than slashing the tires of your teacher at Davenport.”

 

“Worse than following Nolan to the hospital without back up after he tried to kill you like, ten times.”

 

“Worse than–”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it! Bad idea, I get it,” Liam cuts them off, knowing his face is growing redder and redder as they count off all his ill-advised plans. Well, not plans, because Liam isn’t exactly a  _ think-before-you-do _ kind of guy, he’s more of a  _ do-it-do-it-do-it-then-wallow-in-guilt-and-regret-’cause-oh-shit _ kind of guy. “But it’s all moot anyway, for a lot of reasons, tons of reasons– no  _ hundreds  _ of reason, no,  _ thousands  _ of reasons– but mainly because Theo is Not Interested, capital initials, and you know, neither am I. I mean,  _ what?  _ Me and Theo? Pff, crazy. Absolutely insane, how can you guys even think that? That’s. That’s not on the table, that’s not even in the same room. Why would  _ I  _ be interested in Theo? No, why would  _ anyone  _ be interested in Theo,  _ ever _ ?”

 

“Because he’s super hot?” Mason raises one eyebrow, “like, ridiculously hot?”

 

“Yeah, he’s as hot as he was evil,” Corey agrees, “and man, he was  _ evil.” _

 

“Well, he’s not evil anymore,” Liam snaps, and then promptly regrets snapping because  _ there,  _ look at him, he went and gave them even more material to work with. God, this is like Hayden all over again, isn’t it? He’ll just keep putting his foot on his mouth over and over again. “So why don’t we focus at the problem at hand– ”

 

“I wouldn’t say he’s not evil,” Mason interrupts,  _ rudely,  _ “but maybe in a scale of Peter Hale to Deucalion of reformed villains, he’s somewhere in the middle.”

 

“Definitely tipping more towards Peter, though,” Corey adds.

 

“Yeah. Let’s just say I don’t think he would drag everyone to Mexico and try to steal Scott’s power in an abandoned church, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if he did. You get what I mean?”

 

“I literally would rather be attacked by a demon right now than be a part of this conversation.” Liam looks up at the ceiling, praying for patience, or maybe for the ground to crack open and swallow him whole. “I’m not in love with Theo.” 

 

Yes, Liam knows he made a mistake as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

 

“Never said you were,” Mason points out.

 

“You do know I can hear your heartbeat, right?” Corey genuinely asks.

 

“I am going to go investigate that very dark hallway, hopefully, I’ll get murdered. Goodbye now.” Liam tells them.

 

And walks into the darkness.

 

*

 

“It’s always the fucking High School.”

 

*

 

He’s not saying he made a mistake by walking off alone, but, hear him out here, this  _ might  _ be one of those times he does something reckless and not-so-wise before properly thinking it through.

 

It’s just a thought, though.

 

Liam’s fine. He’s fine. Great. Cool. He can totally do this.

 

See, he knows this hallway. It’s the hallway that the biology classroom opens to and leads to the locker room if he turns left, right, then left again, so really, there’s absolutely no reason for him to be weirded out by it.

 

Besides, he can’t hear anything, the school is silent, no sign of the stray heartbeat he heard before, no sign of teenagers lurking in the dark, well, except for them, he supposes.

 

But even so, Liam has left Mason and Corey behind and the hallway is very dark, relying only on moonlight spilling from windows for illumination, and the classrooms are even darker, with closed blinds and full of shadowed corners perfect for anyone to hide in and Liam wouldn’t even notice. He tests every door, hand hovering over the doorknob, feeling the cold coming from the metal before it even touches his skin, waiting for it to start turning and shaking and rattling on its own, and then almost buckling in relief when his hands find it tightly locked instead. 

 

It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but it’s stupid in the way that avoiding looking at mirrors when you wake up in the middle of the night is stupid– you know it’s stupid, but the heavy, cold feeling clawing at your gut still tells you not to, so you don’t.

 

And there’s still an open window somewhere that keeps rattling and rattling and rattling with the wind, and Liam must be getting near it because the sound is getting louder, grinding painfully on his ears, a grating sort of sound that is just loud enough that he can’t shut it out even as it nearly drowns out everything else. The window keeps rattling, rattling, rattling, and Liam is tempted to zero in on it just so he can either shut it properly or tear it out of its hinges because it keeps rattling, rattling,  _ rattling,  _ and it’s driving him  _ insane. _

 

The hallway is so very dark and the classrooms are too, and Liam can’t even hear Mason and Corey because  _ the window keeps rattling, rattling, rattling. _

 

And hands latch onto his shirt.

 

Liam screams. 

 

He tries to step back and break free, but the girl clings tighter.

 

The smell of blood coming off her is overwhelming. Liam nearly gags as she holds on to him for dear life. Her hands clutch at his shoulders with an iron grip. She came out of nowhere, barrelling into Liam and desperately latching onto him. 

 

“Please,” she cries. Tears slide down her cheek, mixing with the blood oozing from the cut on her forehead. She smells of sweat, blood, tears, and  _ fear.  _ “He’s coming,  _ please,  _ he’s coming, he won’t let me go.” The panic drifts from her skin like a sickly sweet perfume and it saturates the air until it’s all Liam breathes. “ _ Please.  _ He killed Fred and the others.  _ Please.  _ He won’t let me go, he’ll kill me too.”

 

Her arms are scratched all the way up to her shoulders, snaking up her neck. Thin little red vines weaving around her like a necklace. Like a noose. What looks like infected insect bites litter her body, everywhere her clothes don’t cover. Liam recoils at the sight, already feeling the telltale crawling of bugs on his skin, and fights off the urge to scratch himself too. “What happened?” He asks horrified, not really processing her words. “Who–  _ what?” _

 

“He’ll kill me, too,” the girl repeats, words tumbling from her lips like stones in a lake. Her hands twitch, clutching at his shirt. She whips her head around, wide-eyed and frantic.  _ Jesus,  _ her heart is hammering in overdrive. Liam forces himself to catch her elbows, and her terrified eyes focus on him again. “He’ll kill me, too.  _ Please,  _ he won’t let me go. He’ll kill me, like he killed the others. He’ll kill me,  _ please.” _

 

“Who,” Liam shakes her gently. Blood is staining his shirt now, and he almost gags again. “Who killed them?”

 

It’s no use. She’s hyperventilating, heart beating, beating, beating, and he doubts she’s even listening to him. She looks down at her arms, letting go of his shirt, and chokes on a scream. The bites are swollen, an angry red that clashes with all the blood oozing from her. She glances up, “ _ he’ll kill me, too.  _ He saw me, he saw me there, he saw me, he won’t let me go. He’ll kill me too.” 

 

_ “Who? I can help you, if you just– ” _

 

“He’ll kill me– ” her looping words are cut off by a scream that finally makes its way past her constricting throat. It makes Liam wince at the high-pitch and stumble back, hands flying to his ears. But the girl isn’t looking at him. She’s looking down at her arms.

 

She’s looking down at the thousands of fire ants crawling up her arms.

 

They come from nowhere, covering her clothes and every inch of skin until she’s being swallowed up by a shifting black mass. She screams, and screams, and screams. The black cloud ripples as they crawl and bite and tear. Liam can hear the shrieking of their spindly legs crawling all over each other and the snapping, snapping, snapping of their jaws.

 

He can only watch as she falls on the ground, body convulsing in a seizure. The black covers her entirely. Liam can’t hear her choked off screams anymore.

 

But he can still hear the tearing of flesh and the dull  _ thumps  _ of her body hitting the floor over and over and over.

 

Only after her body stops convulsing, stops moving, stops breathing, stops  _ living _ , the ants dissolve from her body, skittering away and melting into the shadows.

 

And Liam is left staring at a dead body.

 

Skin red and bleeding, blotched and feverish, chunks of flesh missing. Eyes swollen shut, along with her nose and lips and throat.

 

But then her mouth twitches and Liam could cry in relief. He steps closer, too rattled to focus on her heartbeat, and his nose protests immediately at the stench of feces and urine and sweat and blood. But her mouth is still twitching, and so is her throat, so he ignores it, reaching a shaking hand to take away some of her pain at least.

 

To find something useful to do and grind helplessness with the sole of his boot.

 

Because she might be bruised and hurt and bleeding, but at least she’s alive, so there’s hope yet, Liam can  _ help.  _

 

His hand touches her skin and it’s still warm, his fingers curl around her bony wrist, and he waits for the black veins to appear.

 

He waits.

 

And waits.

 

_ And waits. _

 

Her mouth twitches again. As if the girl is trying to say something, lips moving but too swollen to open in her state. Liam leans in to listen.

 

Finally, her lips tear open.

 

A wave of black ants spills from inside her gaping mouth.

 

And Liam loses it. Stumbling back, he doubles over and throws up, throat burning as he retches bile and stomach acid.

 

_ What the fuck was that? _

 

_ * _

 

“You couldn’t have saved her,” Scott says, “there was nothing you could’ve done.”

 

“I know,” Liam answers, “she was dead from the minute she walked in that room.”

 

“You lose people sometimes,” Scott tells him. Liam doesn’t think he’s talking about the girl in the hallway. “It never gets any easier. But you lose people sometimes.”

 

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, scratching at his wrist again, “I don’t think it’s supposed to.”

 

*

 

Liam isn’t sure how long he spends sitting on that hallway, a few feet away from the dead girl, but he stays there, motionless, until all the ants have melted back into shadows, until he can’t feel the warmth radiating from her body, until the distinct smell of death cloys the room and sticks to the walls of his lungs like tar. 

 

At some point, it started raining, but Liam wouldn’t be able to tell when, all he knows is that at some point he noticed the splatter of rain pelting down on the roof, in a steady staccato that drowns out the rest of the sounds inside the school, and the subtle addition of petrichor to the air, turning it almost bearable to breathe.

 

Almost.

 

The window on the second floor isn’t rattling anymore, dead still along with the girl that Liam thinks he might have seen around the cafeteria before, but he can’t be sure. It’s sad, that she died in front of him, but he doesn’t know her name, or her favorite class, or what major she wants to go for.

 

It’s raining now, and everything is darker. Clouds must have hidden the moon, because any light spilling from windows is dimmer, sickly pale against the beige and grey walls, and the shadows seem even longer, stretching impossibly towards each other, and dark like a black hole, bottomless and eating away any light it can find.

 

The raindrops make a  _ tap, tap  _ sound on the roof, on the windows, on the floor, and Liam focuses on it like you focus on the  _ tick, tock  _ of a clock, relying on its steady rhythm to lure his heart back from a heart attack.  _ Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. _

 

He can’t hear Corey or Mason anymore, their heartbeats or their breathing or their voices, and the hallways are too dirty, too clouded with scents of the hundreds high school students to singled out theirs. Liam’s heart clenches at the thought of his friends with whatever killed that girl, or, rather, got her killed, and it helps wake him from his stupor, because  _ shit,  _ he needs to find them, warn them that there’s something bad in here with them, needs to protect them.

 

“ _ Jesus Christ.” _

 

Mason is standing at the other end of the hallway, staring right at the lifeless body of the girl, and Liam has never been so relieved in his life. 

 

“What happened?” Mason asks, voice wavering as he walks closer, “shit, man. Are you okay?”

 

Liam follows his gaze down to his shirt, takes in the red staining them all the way to the hem. “Yeah, this is not my blood,” he says, but it sounds distant, cottoned, like someone else’s voice. “She’s dead.”

 

Mason pauses halfway to the girl, apparently unwilling to approach the dead body, but now that Liam can see him better, he notices the tired hunch of his shoulders, the sweat sliding down his forehead, the panting way he breathes in. “How did she–”

 

“Ants,” Liam unconsciously averts his gaze to the shadows, frowning as they seem to flicker under his stare. “Lots of them.”

 

“What?” Mason’s eyes widen, and he finally crosses the rest of the way, crouching beside her. “Oh man, that’s Annie Whittaker.”

 

“You know her?”

 

“No, I mean. Remember last week that they had to call an ambulance because some freshman was going into anaphylactic shock? That was her.”

 

Dread coils in Liam’s stomach like vines slowly climbing up to his throat and squeezing the air out of his lungs. “Why?”

 

“She was super allergic to ants.” Mason looks down at her mangled body, wincing at the sight of raw muscle where her skin had been eaten away. With a shudder, he gets to his feet, coming to stand beside Liam, “but dude.  _ That–  _ I think I saw her femur there. Are you sure it was ants? Because it would need an entire colony of them to strip her to the bones, and that’s just–”

 

“It was. They covered her,” Liam swallows thickly, and almost gags when he tastes blood on his tongue. “They came out of nowhere, killed her, then just– I don’t know, disappeared in the shadows.” He looks up, “I can’t wrestle ants.”

 

“Hey,” Mason softens, nudging Liam’s bloodstained sneaker with his own foot. “It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could do. She was allergic.”

 

“Where’s Corey?” Liam asks instead and watches as Mason grows agitated once again. 

 

“I don’t know,” he says, looking around as if Corey might be hiding in here somewhere. “I went after you, but you had vanished, and by the time I went back, he was gone.”

 

“What do you mean  _ vanished _ ,” Liam frowns, “I just followed down the hallway.”

 

“Liam,” Mason says carefully, lowering his voice, “I followed you not even two minutes later. The hallway was empty. I’ve been walking for two hours now and this is the third time I’ve passed the biology classroom.”

 

“No, that’s not possible,” he shakes his head, heart kicking up a hammering rhythm, “it’s been an hour at the most. It can’t be that long, I–  _ what’s going on?” _

 

“I don’t know, but I think whatever Fred did,  _ it worked.” _

 

Liam opens his mouth to say something, he’s not entirely sure what,  _ something,  _ when the sound of footsteps echoes, loud enough for Mason’s human ears to pick up on. They exchange a startled look. Liam silently curses his luck. Mason stays rooted to the floor– between fight or flight, flight seems to have won. Not wanting to wait around for whatever’s slowly creeping towards them, Liam scrambles to get up from the floor, almost slipping on his own vomit. 

 

The footsteps get closer, and he wastes no time arguing, grabs Mason by the arm and drags him towards the end of the hall until he finds his footing and takes off running too. They turn into another hall of classrooms, and Liam dives for the closest door at his right, testing the doorknob, distantly aware of Mason doing the same at his left and of the now running footsteps echoing behind them. It’s locked. Mason curses. He tries another. Locked. Next, locked. Closer. Another, locked. Mason curses again. Almost here. Another.

 

The doorknob turns.

 

And they stumble inside, slamming it closed and turning the lock.

 

Liam leans against the door, exhaling in relief. Beside him, Mason has his phone out, texting furiously. Liam doesn’t need to see it to know he’s texting Corey. They will have to go look for him at some point, Liam knows, but for now, the locked door between them and whatever’s prowling outside is enough to lull him into a sense of security– it wouldn’t hold, he supposes, if the thing really wants to get in, but it helps, in the way hiding beneath blankets in a dark room helps, with the naive certainty that the monsters lurking in the shadows will abide by these random laws you come up with.

 

It helps him breathe until the footsteps are on the hallway right outside, steadily coming closer, and Liam can see it on his mind, the amorphous creature from the book, pacing down the hall and taking shape as it goes, like cloud watching: this one might be a bear skull, these could be long, sharp claws, and those are blood red eyes burning with coals inside. He hadn’t meant to think of the berserkers, it’s been months since one of them appeared in his nightmares, but they are still the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of unstoppable demons with hungry eyes.

 

And now, he sees it behind his eyelids, creeping closer, closer, closer, until it’s right outside their door, sniffing the air for their scent, for Liam’s scent, and there’s no way a flimsy wooden door with cheap metal doorknob will hold under the strength of a berserker. Mason’s scent is all fear and anxiety, like in those days after they found the flayed body in the locked room and he kept seeing it everywhere, but the subtle simmering of the Anuk-ite’s influence is missing in the air; this time, the bone-drenching panic is all theirs. 

 

Liam watches with growing horror as the doorknob turns, slowly, all the way to the right, the door jolts, it turns all the way back, then it rattles wildly, furiously, desperately, the whole thing shaking in its hinges, wood creaking and splintering at the edges, the metal grinding against each other and shrieking in protest, and anytime now it will give out, so Liam throws his weight against it, and Mason follows, even if his efforts are more of a psychological band-aid than any real help, and still, the door rattles, rattles, rattles.

 

Until it abruptly stops.

 

Silence falls heavily, a crushing weight that makes everything even worse, the absence of any sounds shifts the air like dark clouds covering the sun, and Liam can still imagine it outside, crouching in the shadows, waiting to strike, coiled like a bowstring, sharp fangs showing in a snarl, huffing warm, putrid breath as it waits, and waits, and waits, and waits, and maybe, it’s deciding if it’d rather bash Liam’s head against the wall or tear him apart limb from limb from limb and watch him bleed out on the linoleum floor.

 

The door rattles again. Liam hears his own breath hitch. He half scrambles back, half jerks back to hold the door. Fight or flight. The door rattles. His claws flick out and his teeth turn into fangs. The door rattles.

 

_ “Liam, will you open the fucking door already.” _

 

_ What?  _ Liam halts to a stop, a train suddenly pulling the brakes before it hits the person in the middle of the tracks and hoping it’s not too late. It’s a close call. He blinks, feeling adrenaline leaving his body in drags, his claws retracting, fangs shortening back into blunt teeth, gold turning into clouded blue.  _ “Theo?” _

 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Theo says, annoyed but perfectly calm otherwise, no sign of the fear that Liam and Mason had been swimming in, no sign that anything wrong might be happening. Just Theo, outside, waiting for Liam to quit barricading the door. “I swear to god, Liam, if you don’t open the door in the next five seconds–”

 

He looks at Mason, finding comfort in the matching disbelieving, confused look on his face, before yanking the door open. 

 

“Didn’t you hear me knocking? I’ve been calling your name for– ” Theo stalks in, shouldering past him, and pauses, wrinkling his nose.  _ “Jesus,”  _ he looks around, “this place reeks of fear. What  _ were  _ you doing?”

 

Mason opens and closes his mouth, stops, looks at Theo, at the open door gently swaying, at the snapshot of the dark hallway visible from there, at Liam, back at Theo. “What are you doing here? Did you see Corey on your way in? Did you see  _ anything–” _

 

“Liam texted, said he needed help,” he shrugs, like it’s that simple, like Liam hasn’t been trying to get a hold of him for the past who-knows-how-many hours, and glares, “and then stopped answering his phone.”

 

“It’s dead,” Liam grimaces, they are all running out of working phones, and then, because Theo is glaring at him like Liam is somehow the one most at fault here, he bristles, “but you didn’t answer your phone either! I tried calling you hours ago! What’s  _ your  _ excuse?”

 

“I was working,” Theo deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest, and Liam definitely doesn’t watch the way his shirt clings at his arms as the muscles flex underneath. 

 

He wasn’t staring, but if he was, he’d blame that for the delayed reaction at those words. “Wait, what?  _ You _ ’re working?”

 

“Yes, Liam,” Theo sighs, rolling his eyes, but there’s something in the way he holds himself, slightly hunched over, arms crossed, eyes blank, that seems almost defensive. “That’s usually what happens after high school. You either start college or start working.”

 

“Or both,” Mason adds, frowning, “don’t be elitist.”

 

“Seriously?” Theo gestures vaguely, meaning anything between himself and their situation in general, “ _ seriously?” _

 

“No, no, no. Hold on, I’m still processing this,” Liam cuts in, because  _ what,  _ “ _ you’re working?  _ How? Where? Since when?  _ What?” _

 

“Yes, I’m working,” he sighs again, running a hand through his hair and looking out the door, “in a bookstore, okay?”

 

“A bookstore?”

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the owner is a witch, but she has a spare room in the back,” Theo shrugs carelessly, like he isn’t giving out groundbreaking information here, “and it’s not like I care.”

 

“You’re working in a bookstore?”

 

“That’s surprisingly well-adjusted of you,” Mason muses, a grin threatening to split his face, “we’re all very proud.”

 

“Fuck off,” he growls, eyes flashing gold, but his shoulders loosen and there’s no aggression on his scent, and it’s kind of hard for Liam to remember ever being scared of this. “Now, anyone mind telling me what’s going on and why there’s a third of your little trio missing?”

 

All amusement drain from the room, like water swirling down the sink, and Liam flinches at the sudden change in mood. Guilt pulses on his blood, because how could he stand here, teasing and laughing with Theo and Mason while Corey is missing? While Annie Whittaker is dead on the hallway? While something evil is still on the loose? “It’s kind of a long story,” he begins.

 

“Make it short,” Theo cuts him off sharply, probably picking up on the mood swings, and eyeing the open door distractedly.

 

“Well, there may or may not be a demon,” Liam says.

 

“And Corey’s missing since two hours ago, give or take a few minutes,” Mason explains.

 

“Or only one hour,” he feels the need to add, “time’s weird.”

 

“Of course it is,” Theo huffs, still looking at the door, “how did you set loose a demon on a high school?”

 

“It wasn’t our fault this time,” Mason tries to defend himself, after all,  _ it isn’t.  _ “Fred, he’s a freshman, his father is a historian. He thought it would be a good idea to try a summoning ritual he saw in one of his father’s books.”

 

“We’re talking like, ancient Sumerian. The real stuff.”

 

“Yeah, and coupled with the time of the year, it’s no wonder they actually succeeded,” he grimaces, “or that they lost control of it.”

 

“Great,” Theo rolls his eyes, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. He hasn’t looked away from the door yet, and something bitter is beginning to sour the air. Something Liam is very familiar with. Something that’s been clinging to everything tonight.  _ Fear.  _ Theo frowns, then stalks forward to slam the door closed. He swears, turning around with a glare, “what? I thought I’d seen something in the shadows.”

 

“You do know we’ll have to go out there, right?” Mason raises one eyebrow, but there’s steel on his voice. “We need to find Corey. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything,” Theo bristles, scowling and looking like he might make a run for it, so Liam steps in front of Mason, catching his attention and bearing the full weight of his gaze.

 

“You came here because I asked for help,” Liam begins carefully, watching for any sign of movement. “So, will you help?”

 

Theo glares at him angrily before uncrossing his arms, clenching his jaw, and Liam knows he’ll stay. Somehow, it makes him feel better about braving the hallway outside; with Theo and Mason beside him, it seems easier.

 

He hopes he isn’t wrong.

 

“Fine,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, “where did you two idiots lose your third idiot?”

 

“Don’t be a dick,” Liam warns half-heartedly– he knows how to pick his battles, sometimes. “Mason saw him last by the front doors, you know, by the lockers?”

 

“We should start looking there,” Mason decides, immediately making for the door.

 

“We should stick together,” Liam suggests, remembering the sickening fear that had wormed its way on his bloodstream when he had been alone in the hallway. “It’ll be safer that way.”

 

Theo sighs, long-suffering and drawn out, needlessly dramatic, but opens the door carefully, looking both sides before stepping out in the hall. “Come on, chop chop, losers.”

 

That’s the last thing Liam hears Theo say before he goes through the door.

 

*

 

“I wish we hadn’t done that,” Liam confesses, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting too long again, he’ll need to cut it this weekend. “It was dumb.”

 

“You had no way of knowing,” Scott grimaces a little, “and I’m not sure it would have mattered. The demon knew what it had to do.”

 

“Still. We were worried about Corey and I didn’t pay attention.” Liam sighs, “everything felt weird then. It was supposed to, I guess. Divide and conquer, right?”

 

“Yeah,” he smiles comfortingly, “it was its plan all along. Don’t feel bad, okay?”

 

Liam sighs again.

 

*

 

Liam is alone.

 

Again.

 

God  _ fucking  _ damn it.

 

Mason and Theo are gone to who-knows-where.

 

Stepping out of the door had happened in less than a blink. Liam had been about to tell Theo to fuck off and then everyone had disappeared.

 

But that’s fine. Liam can do this. All he has to do is get to the front doors. The others are headed there, no matter where they ended up. They will all rendezvous there. Maybe even Corey will be there.

 

Maybe they’ll get lucky this time.

 

Right.

 

Still, Liam has a plan to follow. That’s a start, that’s something he can work with.

 

He takes a deep breath, ignoring the smell of panic burning his nostrils, and starts walking down from where he came.

 

It’s still as dark as before, with long shadows that seem to move out of the corner of his eyes and lights that blink out of existence as soon as he looks directly at them.

 

The worst part is the dead body.

 

Somehow, it’d be worse if it weren’t still there, but even so, that’s not much of a comfort. Annie reeks of death and all the stenches that follow, putrid and nauseous and rancid. She’s unrecognizable by now, stiff with rigor mortis and blood cloying where her skin meets the floor, blotched flesh turning blue and purple and dirty red. 

 

Liam just knows that’s gonna be a feature on his nightmare.

 

He closes his eyes and soldiers on until the scent fades to something almost bearable.

 

He opens his eyes again.

 

Annie Whittaker’s dead corpse is lying on the floor right in front of him.

 

The rotting smell of decay hits him like a punch in the face. Liam sucks in a breath in surprise and it sticks to the back of his throat, making gag.

 

Then, he does what he should have done front the start.

 

Liam runs.

 

*

 

“How are the nightmares?” Scott asks, eyebrows knitting in concern, “you still have them?”

 

“Yeah,” Liam looks away, playing with a loose thread on the throw over the couch, “but it’s getting better.”

 

“You sure? Mason said you were taking sleeping pills?”

 

“I’m sure, it–” He pauses, hesitating, before deciding on the truth. “It helps a little, my stepdad got them for me, I have a prescription and everything, don’t worry. Theo, he helps, too.”

 

Scott makes a face. “I won’t pretend I like it,” he sighs, slightly smiling, “but if it’s helping, if you’re  _ happy,  _ then I’m, well not happy about it, I mean, it’s  _ Theo.  _ But! I’ll try, okay?”

 

“So you’re not mad?”

 

“What? Of course not, Liam!” Scott grins fully, his kind, puppy smile, “I could never be mad at you for doing what makes you happy. Even if it’s Theo– wait. I didn’t mean it like that! Or, I guess I did?”

 

“Please, stop talking.” 

 

“I’m trying to be supportive!” A pause, he frowns pitifully, “is it not working?”

 

“Yes, just. Can I continue?”

 

*

 

Liam has been running for at least half an hour and the hallway still stretches on and on and on in front of him.

 

The demon is toying with him.

 

He keeps seeing Annie, lying on the floor as he runs past, disappearing as soon as he turns to look, but he knows she’s there. He can smell her decay, acrid and too strong for someone who died only a few hours before.

 

None of this is right.

 

He runs faster, ignoring the burning on his legs and the way his muscles protest at each new step, the way the ground seems to stretch under his feet, growing farther and farther, turning a corner as it appears– and runs straight into someone.

 

Liam panics, claws flicking out and teeth sharpening into fangs as his eyes glow golden, ready to tear into the new threat until his vision swims back into focus and he can see who he had slammed into. “Theo? Thank god– ”

 

“Liam?” Theo reaches out to steady him, but his hands feel too cold and clammy where they touch his skin, his voice is strained and pained, and unease washes over Liam, because he’s never seen Theo like this. “I don’t–”

 

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Liam frowns, noticing the sweat gathering at his forehead, the way his breathing sounds erratic and shallow, heart beating too fast and unsteady. “Theo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 

“I can’t– ” He chokes on the words, coughing wet, rattling breaths until Liam has to support his weight, guide them to lean against the wall, and when Liam glances up, Theo’s nose is bleeding silver and his hands are stained black.  _ “Don’t let them kill me.” _

 

Cold, unbridled panic washes over Liam as Theo echoes Corey’s words from last year. There’s no need to ask who  _ they  _ are. But the Dread Doctors are dead, dead, dead, the Beast killed them last year, they can’t hurt any of them now. 

 

This is all wrong.

 

Theo is the successful chimera, he’s been fine for over a decade, why is he bleeding mercury now? 

 

That’s– that has to be impossible.

 

“Liam,” Theo pants, but Liam can’t look, can’t watch the silver and black spilling from his mouth, running down his nose and dripping, dripping, dripping on the floor, he can’t– “Liam, please. They’re coming, don’t let them kill me.”

 

“No, they’re dead,” he screws his eyes shut, holds his breath so the sterile smell of chemicals isn’t filling his lungs, burning like battery acid on soft tissue, “the Dread Doctors are dead, Theo. It’ll be fine. I don’t know why you’re– but it’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out. You’re not dying, okay? You’ll be fine.”

 

“Can’t you hear them? Liam,  _ they’re already here! _ ”

 

And  _ shit,  _ now Liam can hear it. The  _ tap, tap, tap  _ of a cane hitting the floor, heavy metallic footsteps thudding closer and closer, the crackling of electricity that always seems to accompany them, and how can they still be alive? 

 

_ Condition terminal _

 

It echoes all around them, the mechanical voice sending Theo in another coughing fit where mercury spills on his hands, his face, his shirt, and Liam needs to strain to hear his heartbeat now, but the footsteps are so, so close, wings flapping, a cane hitting the floor, the Doctors will be turning the corner any time now–

 

“Liam, I’m–”

 

“No, no, no, don’t talk,” he shushes, easing Theo in a sitting position when he sways.  _ God,  _ this really is just like Hayden, isn’t it? Dying on his arms while there’s nothing Liam can do because it’s too late and this time Scott is miles and miles and miles away to even be considered an option, and this time Liam didn’t even get to tell Theo he kind of likes him a lot, didn’t have enough time to ask about his stupid new job with the witch on the bookstore, didn’t get to do a whole lot of things and– 

 

_ It’s just like Hayden. _

 

No, it’s  _ exactly  _ like Hayden.

 

Liam’s pretty sure he had a nightmare like this once.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Liam swears, his anger spreading like wildfire on his ribcage, flaring up hot and sudden, because how dare it,  _ how dare it,  _ “this isn’t real.”

 

“Liam, what are you–”

 

“Shut up, you’re not real either,” he looks down at the Theo dying on his arms and the image shimmers faintly, going out of focus for a blink of a second but Liam catches it.  _ “This isn’t real.” _

 

The sound of footsteps stops abruptly and shadows grow and grow around him until the weight on his arms is gone, dissolved in the darkness, no trace of silver or blood or mercury on the floor.

 

It’s like none of it ever happened.

 

Liam guesses it didn’t, not really.

 

*

 

“I’m really sorry, Liam,” Scott squeezes his shoulder, “people will always try to use the people you love as a weakness.”

 

“I know,” Liam says, with steel on his tongue and certainty on his eyes. “But that’s not a weakness.”

 

“No, it’s not. Caring is always strength. We’re stronger together.”

 

*

 

After  _ that  _ traumatizing experience, Liam finally gets a break.

 

The hallway changes, leading him away from the dead body and–  _ is this the second floor?  _ Well, it’s different at least, the Literature classroom is somewhere around here– 

 

“Liam?”

 

Theo is standing in the middle of the hall, fear and guilt cloying the air so strongly, Liam stumbles back, leaning on the wall for support. It looks like the real Theo this time, but Liam still eyes him warily, carefully, taking in the wide-eyed, glazed over, look on his face and the way his hands are shaking at his sides. 

 

“You can’t be here,” Theo rushes over, as if snapping out of his daze, “you need to go. You need to go  _ now.” _

 

“What? What’s happening?”

 

“She’s coming, okay, you have to go,” he yanks him away from the wall, pushing him roughly back towards where he came, and okay, this is Theo, alright. “She’s not here for you, but you can’t be here, you have to go–”

 

“Theo, wait,” Liam grabs his wrists, stopping him from manhandling him out of the way, and the shudders that rack his body seem to shake Liam to the bones. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who’s coming.”

 

“She’s– it’s not her fault,” Theo stops struggling, going slack on Liam’s hold, but his heart is thudding painfully fast and grief is tainting everything around him, “she just wants it back. It’s hers anyway.”

 

“Who, Theo? Who wants what?”

 

He looks up, meeting Liam’s eyes, “Tara, she’s coming to get her heart back.”

 

“Your dead sister–”

 

Liam shuts his mouth as a childish giggle echoes in the hall. It sends a chill down his spine and Theo stiffens, fear spiking again, and–

 

_ Theo _

 

Her voice drawls, drawing out the vowels, giggling gleefully, and Liam feels cold to the marrow of his bones. There’s a scratching, dragging sound steadily creeping closer, and Theo’s hand curls around Liam’s to drag him into running along.

 

“Theo, wait–”

 

“She’s here, come on,” he doesn’t give Liam enough time to tell him that  _ no, this isn’t real,  _ pulling Liam with him as he darts down the hallway, but Liam can see this is going to be endlessly looping like the last one, the rows of doors are already beginning to repeat themselves. Tara calls his name again in the same sing-song voice, giggles chiming like bells in the empty school, and Theo stops, causing Liam to stumble past him, almost falling over. “She’s not here for you. You have to run, Liam. She won’t chase you.”

 

“Theo, no, wait,” Liam takes him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him and not over his shoulder and back where his sister is calling him. And it’s not that Liam hasn’t seen Theo scared before, he did, he saw him being dragged to Hell screaming and kicking after all, but this is different; there are unshed tears on his eyes and his scent is all wrong, he usually has a tight grip on the rhythm of his heartbeat but now it’s out of control. It makes Liam ache in response because this isn’t a nightmare, it’s a night terror. “It’s not real, okay? Tara’s still dead and you’re alive. We’re at the high school. It’s not real.”

 

Theo looks at him uncomprehending, a blank look on his face, but before he could say anything, something moves at the end of the hall, crawling on the floor with twisted limbs and long hair covering her face. As she drags herself closer, Liam can see one of her legs is bent all wrong and she leaves a trail of muddy river water behind, her ribcage torn open and the jagged edges of her bones scratch against the floor.

 

Liam hears Theo suck in a breath and his shoulders drop in defeat, looking like he’s given up on running away, and Liam bets the guilt and grief surrounding him has everything to do with it, even more than fear. Nightmares aren’t always about being scared, he supposes. 

 

Tara is creeping closer, a cold, gleeful grin on her lips and she sees them standing in the hall, sitting ducks waiting for her, and if Liam’s theory is right, this is Theo’s nightmare and the only way to snap out of it is if Theo stops being afraid.

 

Which is pretty hard, Liam will give him that, when his sister is the creepier version of the girl from the Ring coming to carve his heart out of his chest.

 

So Liam swallows his own hesitation and tells himself he’s doing this because Theo needs to snap out of it, he’ll apologize later.

 

Liam reaches up and tugs him down, pressing a kiss to his lips.

 

And it’s not the fireworks he had imagined it would be, mostly because he can still hear Tara crawling towards them and Theo is frozen in place, but maybe that’s good, because if Theo is too busy freaking out on Liam, then he won’t have time to be scared.

 

The nightmare will go away.

 

And that’s all that matters anyway.

 

Right?

 

But then Theo shivers and his hands curl around Liam’s waist, pulling him closer, and kisses back. He holds on to Liam for dear life, and Liam thinks this can’t be a nightmare, not at all.

 

“What are you doing,” Theo half-asks, quietly into Liam’s mouth.

 

“You said,” Liam falters, breathing shallow and heart hammering, “people only feel one emotion at a time. You’re not scared anymore.”

 

“No. No, I’m not,” he says, but begins pulling away, stiff fingers unfurling from Liam’s shirt. “So you can–”

 

“Wait,” Liam holds on tighter, refusing to let go, because this is a terrible situation and a shitty timing, but if they can find a silver lining out of it, well. Right now, Liam can’t think of anything he’d want more than  _ this.  _ “That doesn’t mean I haven’t been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

 

Theo stays silent for a long, heart-stopping moment, then a smirk pulls at his lips, and Liam can breathe again. “Have you now?” He drawls, sounding smug like he always does, but with their chests pressed together, he can’t hide the stutter on his heartbeat. His smirk is infuriating in a whole lot of levels, so Liam kisses him just to shut him up.

 

You know, silver linings and all that.

 

*

 

“He does seem different,” Scott admits, “less evil.”

 

“Dude.”

 

“Sorry, sorry, you know how Stiles is, I think he’s rubbing off on me.” He grins openly, sunnily, “maybe you’re rubbing off on Theo.”

 

“Can I just go back to the story?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. It was just an observation.”

 

*

 

“So it’s all about nightmares?”

 

They have been making progress on walking forward, slowly leaving the looping hallways behind, but Liam is kind of worried, because when last time that had meant Theo was being targeted by the demon. He hopes Mason and Corey are having better luck.

 

“Yeah,” Liam nods, “I think so, at least. So far it’s been fading away as soon as we stop being scared.”

 

“Maybe it’s feeding on fear,” Theo suggests, tugging at their joined hands and walking faster. Holding hands is only sensible, Liam tells himself, after all, it only took a doorway to get them separated last time. “Like the Anuk-Ite.”

 

“Maybe,” he acquiesces, but it doesn’t sound right. Something about this doesn’t feel right. “But I don’t know. We need to find the others first, then we come for the demon.”

 

“How do you plan on doing that, by the way?”

 

Liam feels his face heating up. “I’m taking it one step at a time. Let’s focus on Corey and Mason.”

 

“Sure,” Theo snorts, “I’m sure the demon will kindly wait until you’re done.”

 

“Shut up, I’ll figure it out, okay?” Liam huffs, regretting every decision that led him here. He should’ve gone home straight out of class, Lacrosse practice be damned. “Can you hear anything? I’ll keep an eye out while you do that.”

 

Theo rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked, between the two of them, he’s still the better tracker, Liam can never focus for too long or shut everything else completely. It’s a bit like trying to single out a specific radio frequency with every other electronics on in the room. But Theo only closes his eyes, frowning a little, head tilting to the side. “Nothing. Rats scratching. The wind wailing. A heartbeat– Mason’s. He’s close. Come on.”

 

He pulls Liam after him, guiding them through the maze of corridors and classrooms, swearing when they get turned around, back at places they’d walked past before, and it probably takes them longer than it should to reach the AP Physics classroom.

 

“He’s in there?” Liam asks dubiously, eyeing the closed door suspiciously. The hallway is eerily empty and the air is deathly still. It seems kind of too easy. But Theo shrugs, so he supposes Liam’s guesses are as good as his. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

 

He turns the knob, surprised to find that it turns effortlessly, and it swings open with a terribly loud creaking, hinges shrieking as it goes.

 

And a hand yanks him back.

 

Where his head has just been, a baseball bat collides with the doorway, wood splintering with the force of impact. If Theo hadn’t pulled him back, it would have been his skull shattering instead.

 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

 

The words are rushed and garbled, and it takes Liam some time to realize it’s Mason talking.

 

“What the hell, Mason?” Theo asks angrily, pushing him out of the way to inspect the inside of the room. He surveys every corner, searching the shadows for anything lurking in the darkness. “What was that for?”

 

“I thought–” Mason pauses, taking a deep breath, steadying himself, and he looks so rattled, that Liam steps forward, nudges him into sitting down. When he speaks again, his voice is a hoarse whisper, “the Beast. I thought– I know it’s impossible, but I thought I saw, and then– I mean, I tried to run, but I kept going back to where I started, so I locked myself up here. And I swear, it sounded like it was just outside, the doorknob was rattling, shaking so hard, and I knew it would come apart anytime now, and  _ god,  _ I could see the silhouette on the window. Liam, it was just like–”

 

“I know, I believe you,” Liam raises his hands in front of him in a placating gesture, trying to calm his friend down. It could attract the nightmares back if he got scared again, and dealing with the Beast of Gevaudan isn’t something he’s looking forward to. “But it wasn’t real.”

 

“The demon is using your nightmares,” Theo says bluntly, coming to stand at the door like some sort of scowling bouncer. Yeah, Liam could see it, easier than a bookstore, at least. “Whatever you saw– it’s not real. They go away once you stop being afraid.”

 

“What?” Mason frowns deeply, processing all the new information, the discrepancies in time for each of them, the changing halls. “That’s– that makes sense, actually. I hate that our life is so messed up, it makes sense.”

 

“Yeah, that’s why we need to find Corey soon,” Liam looks nervously at the clock on the wall. It reads 11:15 pm. It should be nearing dawn by now. “Do you know what’s his nightmares are about?”

 

Mason bites his lips, thinking, and Liam is still a little hung up on the clock. It ticks steadily, like it should, but the hour is all wrong, it can’t have been less than fifteen minutes since they arrived at the high school, Liam’s been walking around for hours now, twenty minutes  _ at least  _ by the time Annie stumbled into him. It couldn’t have been less than ten thirty by the time it started raining, almost midnight when Theo found them and– “Why aren’t you wet?”

 

“Excuse me?” Theo whips his head around to look at Liam, giving him a strange look, but the question is gnawing at his mind now, itching, itching, itching, so Liam asks him again. “What are you talking about?”

 

“It was raining when you arrived,” Liam explains slowly, foreboding creeping up his spine with cold tendrils, dread weighing like lead in his gut, “you said you came in through an open window on the second floor, you should’ve been soaked to the bones, but you were dry, no mud on your converse and it’s  _ white. _ ”

 

“Liam,” Theo frowns, swallowing down thickly in uneasy as it becomes clear this is another of the inconsistencies in reality, “it hasn’t rained since three days ago.”

 

“No, that can’t be right, I remember hearing the rain splattering on the roof, it kept tapping at the windows and–”

 

Realization hits Liam all at once, like fabric coming apart after pulling on a loose thread.

 

_ The raindrops make a tap, tap sound on the roof, on the windows, on the floor–  _

 

_ Nothing. Rats scratching. The wind wailing–  _

 

The tapping, the scratching–  _ oh god, Corey. _

 

“Oh my god,” Liam feels bile rising on his throat, horror twisting his stomach and squeezing air out of his lungs, “I know where he is.”

 

*

 

“See?” Scott smiles encouragingly, “you figured it out.”

 

“Yeah, after– I don’t even know. Time was still fucked up then.”

 

“But you figured it out in the end,” he says with confidence like he wholeheartedly believed in that. “That’s what matters.”

 

“I don’t– okay. Yeah. I just need more time. I mean, Mason is still doing physiotherapy. Corey wouldn’t be here if he weren’t a chimera.”

 

*

 

Liam isn’t sure how they got to the front doors.

 

He honestly doesn’t know.

 

One minute they had been running past the AP Chemistry classroom for the third time and the next a corner had appeared and they had skidded around it to find the glass doors, moonlight spilling through and illuminating the rows of lockers.

 

It doesn’t matter how.

 

“He’s in one of the lockers,” he tells the others, suddenly more certain about this than anything else, the kind of certainty you find in dreams where you know something is true even if it doesn’t make sense. “Come on, he’s in one of these.”

 

The scratching sound is so loud now, Liam doesn’t know how he didn’t hear it before, it’s a clear, high-pitched noise of claws against metal, desperately grating at the locker door, a little muted, but seeming to come from everywhere, impossible to pin down.

 

Mason and Theo are tearing the lockers open, but just like before, Liam knows they won’t find him, because this is Corey’s nightmare, if he doesn’t snap out of it on his own, they won’t find him, not in time, not until he’s dead like Annie Whittaker.

 

“Corey,” Liam calls, he’s here, they might not be able to reach him, but Corey can still hear them. Hopefully. “This isn’t real!”

 

“What are you doing?” Mason stops, incredulous, as Liam stands shouting in the middle of the hall, not really helping them look for Corey. “ _ Dude.” _

 

“We won’t find him like this,” he shakes his head, “it’s his nightmare. It’s only going to stop if he snaps out of it.  _ Corey! It’s not real, you have to wake up!” _

 

“It won’t work,” Theo slams the last locker closed, the shrill thud echoing around them, and kicks it in frustration. Then, he turns to Mason, head tilting in the way Liam knows means he’s had an idea that just might work. “Or, maybe it will. But it has to be you.”

 

Mason frowns, stepping back. “What?”

 

“You have to call him,” Theo explains impatiently, “he’ll listen to you.”

 

“It’s our best shot,” Liam agrees. Then, softer, “he loves you, he’ll listen.”

 

Mason makes a wounded noise, and Liam feels so incredibly bad, because he’s been in his place before, he’s been in his place just a few hours before, and he knows how the helplessness and fear swirls around burning like acid. But he calls Corey, tells him  _ it’ll be okay, it’s not real,  _ with a voice so soft and pained, Liam kind of tries not to listen.

 

One of the lockers, one of the lockers they had checked before, swings open and grave dirt spills, far more than it should, and Corey falls to the floor, coughing and shuddering.

 

“Oh my god,” Mason dives for him, gathering on his arms, shushing and comforting, and Liam looks away. This isn’t something meant for them to see. 

 

Theo stands beside him, their shoulders brushing, and Liam leans into him, lets him wrap an arm around his shoulders, press a kiss to his hair. “It’s fine. You found him.”

 

Liam exhales in relief, feeling like he could cry with it, because yes, the demon is still out there, but at least they are all safe, all here where he can see them, protect them.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs, breathing in on Theo’s scent, “yeah. There’s just one thing left to do.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You have to wake up,” Liam tells him, pulling away a little to shake his shoulder, “Theo, you need to wake up.”

 

“Liam, what are you talking about–”

 

“Come on, think about it. How can the hallways keep looping like that? How can our nightmares appear like this? How can time pass differently for each of us?”

 

“I don’t know, but–”

 

“We are all dreaming, that’s how the demon is feeding off us. Look, how did Mason get that bat? It’s Stiles’. It should be on the back of the Jeep.”

 

“Then how do I,” Theo pauses, briefly looking at Mason and Corey curled around each other, “how do  _ we  _ wake up?”

 

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “Maybe now that we know, we’ll just do?”

 

“I’ll doubt it. Maybe if we die here?”

 

Liam thinks of Annie, lying dead on the floor. It could be just another dream-thing, but something about her screams– you can’t fake that. “No, we die here, we die for real. There has to be another way.”

 

“What are you guys talking about?” Mason asks, helping Corey walk with shaking legs. The chimera looks worn out and tired, his skin pale and dirty, shoulders hunched. “Another way to what?”

 

“Wake up,” Liam smiles at Corey, a knot on his chest loosening at the sight of his friend, battered and bruised, but alive. “We all need to wake up. I think none of this is real.”

 

“It would explain the time thing,” Mason reluctantly agrees, nodding thoughtfully, “and the changing layout of the corridors.”

 

“I couldn’t hear you guys,” Corey says, voice raspy and hoarse, “all I remember is waking up in a coffin. I tried to claw my way out, but when the lid broke, all it did was fill it with dirt.” He pauses, licking his lips, before continuing a little wavering, “I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to–”

 

“Hey,” Mason pulls him closer, bringing him back to the present, “you’re fine now. We’ve got you.”

 

“You did,” he smiles softly, through grime and dirt and gravel, “you saved me.”

 

Mason ducks his head, but everyone sees the grin on his lips and hears the hiccup on his heartbeat. “Right. I, uh. What were we talking about?” He shakes his head, “waking up. Okay. So, usually, in a normal, not-demonic-induced sleep, there are a few ways to wake up, like if our brain picks up on some sound or movement around us.”

 

“Well, that’s not going to work here,” Theo scowls, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

“Or, if your heartbeat rises too high, too quick, but I guess if that was an option, we would’ve already woken up,” Mason grimaces, continues, “there  _ could be  _ another option, but you’re not going to like it.”

 

“Why? What is it?” Liam braces himself. Maybe if he expects the worst possible outcome, he will be pleasantly surprised by comparison. “What is it, Mason?”

 

“Look, we need to get startled, right? Like,  _ really  _ startled to bypass whatever is keeping us sleeping. Dying would do the trick, except if we die here…”

 

“We might die in real life.”

 

“Exactly.  _ But,  _ what if we could wake up just before the actual death?”

 

“How would we do that?” Liam frowns, unease pooling again on his blood, turning his veins cold and bones brittle. They’ve been in the same place for too long now, if the demon realizes they figured it out, it could turn out to be a problem. 

 

“You know when we dream of falling?” Mason is beginning to get excited by his own idea, grinning as he explains it, “we never actually hit the ground. We always wake up before hitting the ground.”

 

“It could work,” Theo pauses, then, turning back to Liam, “how sure are you about all of this?”

 

Liam wants to say  _ not at all,  _ not enough to risk their lives like this, not enough to ask them to jump from the rooftop,  _ not enough,  _ but the thing is, he  _ is  _ pretty sure. Everything they’ve seen so far would make some semblance of sense. And if he’s wrong, would stay here be a better option after they all almost died? Because so far, Liam got off easy on the nightmare scale, what if it really is a Berserker next time? Or a pack of them? 

 

A wail rises with the wind outside from somewhere inside the school.

 

They are running out of time.

 

“I’m sure,” he tells Theo, “we have to get to the roof.”

 

*

 

“And the demon let you guys through?” Scott’s eyebrows climb up, up, up, “it didn’t realize you had figured it all out?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

*

 

The building is collapsing.

 

Walls are crumbling and reality is glitching, doors leading to nowhere, ceiling falling to pieces as they walk under it, floor giving under the smallest of weights.

 

“Come on,” Liam tries the door again, frantically turning the knob, shaking the entire thing on its hinges, “come on, come on.”

 

Behind him, the sounds of debris colliding with each other are getting closer and with each concrete block that falls, the floors shake.

 

The door still doesn’t budge.

 

“Fuck it,” Theo shoulders past him, rattling the doorknob himself and cursing loudly when another tremor racks the ground. He kicks the door, then whirls around, “step back, I’m going to break it down.”

 

“You’ll bust your shoulder, let me help,” Liam doesn’t wait for him to agree, already backing away to gain momentum. Theo grumbles but doesn’t argue, probably aware of the building crumbling in itself behind them and the set of stairs still waiting in front of them.

 

The wood moans creaks and groans under their combined force, hinges snapping in the collision, and Liam might have dislocated his shoulder, okay, it’s not his fault that door was sturdier than it looked.

 

A crashing noise sounds way too close for comfort.

 

“Don’t just stand there,” Theo barks, helping Mason haul Corey up the stairs, “ _ run.” _

 

The stairwell to the roof is old and dusty, cobwebs sticking to his hair as they climb it, two steps at a time, and the railing is cracking with rust, more muted coppery red than its supposed shining silver. The door to the roof is thankfully just as corroded, breaking down easily with a push, falling open with the  _ clank  _ of an empty metallic shell and letting the cold night air in.

 

Liam breathes in deeply, only now realizing how heavy and stale the air inside had been, and feels suddenly glad to see the same stars above in the sky, one tiny little detail that remained the same even in this nightmare world. It’s surprisingly reassuring as he stops at the edge of the roof, his sneakers kicking gravel down to what he assumes is the ground, but the usual two-store drop is now an endless abysm, stretching down, down, down, so deep a thick fog hides the bottom.

 

He never hears the rocks hitting the end.

 

“Damn,” Mason looks down, and Liam reaches an arm to pull him back as he sways forward, “do you think it ends?”

 

“I don’t know,” Liam shrugs, acutely aware of the rumbling under their feet of walls coming down inside the building, closer and closer to crumble the foundation, “maybe it’s an endless fall, as the hallways.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, we’re fucked,” Theo is standing on his other side, even closer to the edge, close enough that the tip of his Converse isn’t touching the floor. He looks at Liam, somber and determined. “Are you sure about this?”

 

“Yes.” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he means it, he does, but he kind of wanted to say something else, something  _ more _ because this is Theo wholeheartedly trusting Liam with his  _ life,  _ there should be better words than a half-assed goodbye, Liam should probably tell him he– well. He should tell him, right?

 

Theo doesn’t give him time to figure out what to say.

 

He kisses Liam a desperate sort of kiss that could only mean  _ goodbye  _ and Liam loves every second of it as much as he hates it, because this can’t be goodbye, they have to wake up safe and sound back in the real world, but Theo kisses him breathless, pulling away with his trademark smirk, saying, “see you on the other side, then,” and  _ falls. _

 

_ “Wait–”  _ Liam tries to reach for him, to pull him back up, the knee-jerk panic of seeing someone fall off a roof, but he’s falling, falling, falling, disappearing from sight swallowed by the fog.

 

A shrill wail rises again from inside the building and the ground shakes, the doorway from where they came folding in itself like a star collapsing under its gravity. 

 

“ _ Asshole,” _ Liam shouts at the abysm, scowling even as he turns to Mason and Corey, standing wide-eyed beside him, “what? Things happened, I’ll explain later, but we have to go now, there’s no time.”

 

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that,” Mason nods fervently, “because we are going to survive this.”

 

“Of course we’ll survive this,” Liam scoffs, even as his heart speeds up, beating rabbit-quick, “we’ve survived worse things.”

 

Corey reaches for Mason’s hand, locking their fingers tightly together, and with a nod to Liam, they jump.

 

Without anyone else to look out for, Liam takes a deep breath, exhales, and lets gravity pull his body forward.

 

He falls, falls, falls, wind whipping past him, whistling by his hair, and  _ holy shit,  _ he’s  _ falling–  _

 

*

 

“That’s quite the, uh,  _ leap of faith,  _ isn’t it?”

 

Liam groans, burying his head on his hands, “how long have you been waiting to make that pun?”

 

“I came up with it on the way to Beacon Hills,” Scott admits, a little guiltily but otherwise way too proud of his terrible joke, “Stiles thought it was pretty good.”

 

“And what did Malia think of it?”

 

“She tried to break up with me, yeah. But Stiles thought it would be funny to  _ drop  _ that on you later.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

*

 

Liam jerks awake with a start, gasping for air and sitting up with a jolt.

 

He frantically whips his head around, taking in his surroundings.

 

The high school. He’s at the beginning of a hallway. It’s still night. Three other heartbeats nearby. Something rancid is in the air.

 

Liam screams.

 

There’s something writhing on his skin. Red fuzzy tendrils are covering all over his arms and neck and clothes and  _ oh god,  _ his face. He tears them away and they come off easily, turning black even before being peeled away.

 

Liam  _ pulls. _

 

A sharp pain on his left wrist and the entire thing comes off, now a dull black, and falls to the floor, no longer moving.

 

Now that it’s no longer all over Liam, he can see it looks a little like a plant, woolly and dry, its roots had been buried on his wrist, sneaking under his skin, and his blood is still covering it, and it seems to have grown from there, stretching into branches that had grown all over his body.

 

No, not like a plant.

 

Like fungus. 

 

_ Like mold. _

 

Two sets of footsteps skid around the corner and Liam glances up, grinning brightly as Corey and Mason run into him, pulling him into a hug.

 

They made it.

 

The only one missing is–

 

“Well, isn’t this sweet?”

 

_ God,  _ Liam is going to punch him. Theo is leaning against the wall, a few feet away, arms crossed and smirking, looking completely unfazed, almost amused by the whole thing, like the motherfucking douchebag he is. Liam wants to punch that look out of his face.

 

But maybe the relief of seeing him there kind of outweighs that.

 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Liam stalks towards him, scowling and ignoring the happy twitch of his heart. What a traitor. Liam is trying to stay mad, damn it.  _ “See you on the other side?  _ Seriously?  _ Seriously?  _ You’re such a drama queen. I want to kill you myself half of the time– ”

 

“And the other half?” Theo asks, raising one eyebrow. It’s ridiculously smooth, and it’s ridiculously attractive. Liam absolutely hates it.  _ Hates it.  _

 

“It remains to be seen,” Liam snarls, walking right up into his space, then says, “but I’m glad you’re not fucking dead,” and kisses him.

 

Theo pulls back, wincing when Liam’s hand touches the back of his neck, coming back bloodied. So that’s where the weird little mold thingie got him. But he’s smiling, for real this time, the happy smile Liam keeps trying to bring out of him, “yeah, I’m pretty glad you’re not dead too.”

 

“God, I keep forgetting Liam is so gross when he’s dating someone,” Mason fake gags, and now Liam is beginning to notice all the detail he’s missed in his hurry before. Mason’s right leg is covered in blood, bent a bit awkwardly, jeans torn in places. He must notice Liam’s concerned stare because he waves him off, “I don’t think it’s really broken. That weird mold didn’t want to let go even after I woke up. I think it’s because I’m human.”

 

“You should stay here,” Theo decides, untangling himself from Liam and leaning away from the wall, “we still have to find this demon, but with your leg, you’ll only slow us down.”

 

“Wow, thanks, Theo. Good to see you’re still a dick,” Mason rolls his eyes, glares, “there’s no way I’m staying behind. I’m the only one who knows the protection wards,” he fishes a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket, waving in front of them, “and you’ve seen what happened last time we split up. It took us out one by one.”

 

“Yeah,” Corey agrees, shifting to take more of his boyfriend’s weight, “I think we should stick together. Safety in numbers and all that.”

 

“I think you’re right. It’s not safe to be alone right now,” Liam nods, bracing himself for the next impossible thing they’ll have to do. It’s going to be hard to top  _ jumping off the roof,  _ though. “We have to be careful, keep an eye out for those mold plants.”

 

“Whatever,” Theo shrugs, wiping blood from his neck with a scowl, “as long as I get to burn this fucker down, I’m good.”

 

“Hey,” Mason says brightly, “maybe if we can narrow Theo’s murderous tendencies down only towards demons, we just might make a real boy out of him!”

 

*

 

“What were those things anyway?” Scott asks, passing Liam the glass of sweet tea Melissa had just left on the coffee table, “like, demon babies, or something?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Liam sips his tea, sighing contently at the cold, “Mason thinks they were like, an extension of it? Like, if the demon were a mold, those were the spores? Like that fungus who makes zombies out of ants?”

 

“That’s creepy. I’m glad you’re all okay,” Scott downs half his glass in one go, setting it on the table, “you  _ are  _ okay, right?”

 

*

 

The boiler room is definitely where it began.

 

Red mold is growing from under the door, snaking up the walls, almost touching the ceiling by now, and spreading on the floor, a bloody red stain steadily reaching farther and farther.

 

There are no heartbeats inside.

 

Mason nudges him, gesturing for them to cover their noses and mouth with their shirts, it’s probably best not to breath in whatever that shit is. They don’t need a repeat of the last… Liam’s phone is still very much dead, that part wasn't dreaming, nope.

 

Exchanging a brief look with him, Theo steps forward, wrenching the door open with an ear-splitting shriek of the metal. 

 

And  _ shit.  _ The inside is so much worse.

 

Everything is painted red. The mold is growing from the center of the room towards all directions. It’s all over the walls and part of the ceiling, covering the lightbulbs and casting a red shade in the room. The machinery is all overcome by mold, inside the nooks and creaks of every tiny screw, growing thickly over layers. 

 

And in a circle around the room, four dead bodies are lying, coated in red to the point of unrecognition.

 

One of them is a bit apart from the others as if they had been trying to crawl away.

 

Theo slams the door back shut.

 

“Okay, this is a good time to start drawing,” he backs away from the room, stopping only when he collides with the wall behind him, “anytime now would be great.”

 

Mason nods mutely, hobbling forward with Corey’s help and begins painting oddly geometrical symbols on the door and the adjacent walls. He uses his blood to do it, still oozing slowly from his leg, the smell copper and salt overwhelmingly strong in the air, and Liam feels his stomach twisting.

 

The wards glow a bright red when he’s finished and a familiar wail soars from the room.

 

Liam watches in amazed relief as the red veins slowly begin turning black, writhing and twitching, before falling still, looking like ordinary black mold.

 

Until it catches fire.

 

Blue flames burst from the mold, the heat drifting all the way to where they stand, and the metal door creaks, dilating under the high temperature, followed by the groaning and shrieking from the heavy machinery inside suffering through the same process.

 

It dies in a gust of hot, dry wind.

 

And they don’t dare open the door again.

 

“Will it hold?” Liam asks Mason, eyes still glued at the door, “the wards? Is it really over?”

 

“According to the book, yes,” Mason answers absently, equally transfixed by the black scorch marks on the walls, “as long as no one else tries to summon it again.”

 

“It’s over, then?” Corey whimpers, leaning all his weight on the wall, “thank god.”

 

“This is the last time I’m answering your calls,” Theo warns, leaning beside Corey and letting his head tilt back, closes his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Liam feels giggles bubbling up, a little hysterical, a little relieved, “you used to be a better liar, you know?”

 

“Good luck walking home, then,” he doesn’t open his eyes, but his lips twitch into a smile, “you’re banned from my truck.”

 

Liam leans on the wall like the rest of them, falling against Theo and resting his head on his shoulder. He lets his eyes fall closed, buries his face on Theo’s neck, smiling,  _ “liar.” _

 

*

 

The sound of the front door opening and closing brings them out of their conversation, and Liam grins when Theo appears in the doorway, giant turkey on his arm and an annoyed look on his eyes, and announces in a loud voice clearly meant for someone else in the other room to hear, “Corey is a pushover. Mason said he wanted turkey on Thanksgiving so he just  _ had to  _ buy the biggest fucking turkey in the city.”

 

“Like you’re any better,” Corey sidesteps him to walk into the living room, pie– oh my god, is that  _ pumpkin _ pie– on his hand. “It wouldn’t have taken so long if you hadn’t made us drive halfway across the city for this.”

 

Theo snorts, rolling his eyes, but detours by the couch to give Liam a kiss, nodding to Scott in a surprisingly civil interaction, before heading to the kitchen to dump the giant mutant turkey, Corey trailing after him and waving cheerfully at them on his way.

 

Liam is still smiling when he turns back to Scott, “I’m getting there.”

 

And he isn’t surprised to find it’s the truth.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey you made it! if you liked it, maybe leave a kudo or a comment? Those seriously make my day!
> 
> or, you can come talk to me on [my tumblr](http://wearealltalesintheend.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and hey? thanks.


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